Stepmother, this person, pitiful yet detestable.

She had seven older sisters above her, one by one sent away to be foster daughters, the money earned exchanged for a pig.

Leaving only her to take care of her one younger brother.

Later, her brother died, in her teens she ran away, followed many bosses, but never got married.

Shortly after my mother gave birth to me, she came to complain, my mother, out of village kinship, took her in.

Not long after, she climbed into my father's bed, a year later she successfully gave birth to a son...

I stared at the thin figure of my stepmother: "Marry her off to you as a daughter-in-law."

The dogged couple locked in.

To prevent future harm to my mother.

My father shook his head like a drum: "No way, she's thin and ugly, obviously can't bear a son."

I was speechless for a moment, in the past life, you didn't say that.

"Mom, I'm so hungry, can I go back to eat?"

What greeted him was a dish of stir-fried pork with bamboo shoots.

He cried out in pain, neighbors next door heard and came to advise, saying that spoiling the youngest son would lead to trouble if he misbehaved.

"Fighting with his older brother, even stealing money, I've been too lenient with him."

My father stiffened his neck in denial, I lightly retorted: "Which parent wrongly accuses their child."

In the past life, as long as my mother wasn't home, he would make me kneel on the steps, and spread rumors that I stole money, causing the children in the neighborhood not to play with me.

When my mother found out, he turned the blame on her for not being home all day, claiming that as the father, he needed to be strict.

Later, my mother took a step back, handing over the company's management to him, so I no longer had to kneel on the steps.

Now, the tables have turned.

Early the next morning, my aunt was tiptoeing to cook, while my uncle who came back late at night was sound asleep.

It seems I was too gentle with the beating yesterday.

I casually picked up a broom, weighed it, then switched to a kitchen knife, and with force, I struck at the head of the bed!

The bed frame trembled slightly, my uncle, still drowsy, said: "Mom, it's still early, breakfast isn't ready yet—"

Seeing the knife in my hand, he instantly jumped out of bed.

"What's gotten into you so early in the morning!"

I couldn't be bothered to talk nonsense: "Go to the mountain and chop two bundles of firewood, if you don't finish, don't eat."

My uncle was reluctant, but based on the kitchen knife in my hand, he slowly went out.

My father, for the first time, dressed himself, looking at me in a pleasing manner.

"Go pick manure and water the vegetables!"

"It's so smelly, even Dad lets my sister do it, my knees are still hurting!"

My father, spoiled since childhood, even though he was beaten yesterday, still delusionally hoped to awaken my motherly love.

"Then I don't mind making you hurt a little more."

As he spoke, he took out the bamboo stick from yesterday.